


Yankee Doodle Sweet Heart

by winter_storm



Series: Hetalian Holidays [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Party, Countries in love, Fluff and Angst, Human & Country Names Used, M/M, Observant Canada, Romance, medeling France, stubborn dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-07-20 03:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7388398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_storm/pseuds/winter_storm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All America wants for his Birthday is for England to come to his party, but will he get his wish?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Yankee Doodle Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone has a slightly different idea about how England handles America’s birthday. Be warned this will not be the normal sort of story where England gets violently ill every year for America’s birthday, but I hope you will all still enjoy it.
> 
> Warning: This story contains a lot of internal conflict between the characters feelings as nations and people. I have done my best to separate the two by using human and country names but there is still some cross over please keep that in mind while reading so as to try and avoid confusion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting means nothing but an excuse to talk about America's party and one island nation is not overly pleased about it.

Yankee Doodle Sweet Heart

 

Chapter one: A Yankee Doodle Boy

It was a Friday. Friday the 3rd of July to be exact. Most of America either already had today off or had called in to their jobs sick so they could have a long weekend to celebrate the birth of their ‘truly awesome’ country. As the entire country prepared for the celebration the personification of said country, one Alfred F. Jones, was also gearing up for a party the next day. He held it every year and this would be no different. Of course there were a few things about his birthday that he wouldn’t mind changing but for the most part his parties were always kick ass.

Despite the entire country taking a day off of work someone thought it would be a good idea to hold a world conference the day before America’s birthday. From a financial standpoint this idea did have some merit. A plane ticket to America was not cheap and was not likely to become any less expensive as time went on. Almost every country had agreed to attend the young nation’s party so holding a meeting at the same time at least meant saving on travel costs. Even Russia and Germany had agreed to come and celebrate with America on his birthday. The fact that all of this made perfect sense only served to make the island nation of England, one Arthur Kirkland, that much more irritated. He had no intention of coming to America anywhere close to the fourth of July and certainly not the sodding day before. 

Despite the Generally festive air in the meeting room one blonde haired green-eyed nation considered this meeting nothing other than a bloody waste of time. It was true that they could have been talking about the economy, or global warming, or the state of the trade industry, or even America’s fast approaching elections. Despite the countless more productive uses for the time the entire room was simply a twitter with nothing other than talk of the festivities to fill the fallowing day. Evan Germany gave up on trying to get anything productive done. This was probably due to the overly excitable Italian hanging onto his arm though. “Oh Germany I am so excited. I am going to make pasta for everyone and America said we could all spend the night at his house so we can stay up late and watch the fireworks. Doesn’t it sound like fun Germany?” Italy was hardly pausing long enough to draw breath much less long enough for the stoic nation to reply, but Italy seemed just as happy without a reply from Germany so it probably didn’t actually matter that the German hadn’t said anything.

Deciding that there wasn’t any reason to stay England started packing his briefcase. Bringing it in the first place was really wishful thinking. He knew it was too much to hope for that something would actually get done. They rarely got anything done under the best circumstances so to hope they would get something done the day before the biggest nation wide celebration was DEFINITELY asking too much. Still it would have been nice for a change. He finished packing up the brown bag snapping it shut. He was in no mood to spend the next three hours discussing the celebration that marked when his colony had left. Since nothing else was going to be discussed however he turned towards the exit.

There was a soft cough fallowed by an equally reserved “England san.” The British nation turned at the soft clearing of a throat and utterance of his name. He did his best to smile at his fellow island nation. He liked Japan. Japan had a quiet and reserved disposition that England could appreciate in contrast to the rest of the world. England wasn’t exactly quiet himself if you got him worked up and he would admit that, but most of the time he tried to stay calm and composed like the gentleman he was. Japan had a naturally calming influence so having him around was if nothing else good for England’s gentlemanly image. 

He did not want to seem hostile so he tried to keep his voice even before addressing the soft-spoken Japanese. “Yes Japan, may I do something for you?” England was actually rather impressed with how ambivalent he sounded. There was still the slight bite of irritation, but at least it didn’t sound as if it was directed at Japan. He would not like to offend the man after all he was one of the few nations England really considered to be a friend. 

The shorter man had fallen silent at England’s question. He stayed silent for a moment as he composed his statement in his head as Japan always thought about what he said before saying it. “Are you not looking forwards to America san’s party?” He asked his question politely as he did everything else, but Japan always said more than his words did. England knew that this was Japan’s subtle way of asking if he was feeling all right. It was well known that England often fell ill around the fourth of July. That hadn’t happened for the past few decades though. Despite that fact however it was still a convenient excuse to skip the festivities. 

As much as he wanted to England wouldn’t lie to Japan. It was very tempting to say that he didn’t feel entirely well and would probably not be in any condition to attend the party. He probably would have said so if it had been any other country. Japan always knew when he was lying though so there was no point in not telling the truth when it came to Japan. “I have no intention of attending America’s party actually. I have a lot of work and an early flight.” It wasn’t a lie really, but that didn’t mean he was telling Japan everything either.

The other nation was silent once again considering what he was going to say as well as what England had said to him. “I see” was all he gave his blonde companion as a reply. Those two words seemed to mean so much more when they were said by Japan. The nation clearly knew that England was withholding information, but never one to push he said nothing. Japan merely gave a small incline of his upper body and went to speak to Italy about not tugging on Germany san’s arm so incessantly.

As Japan bid him good day England did his best to leave before any of the other nations could stop him. His attempt was in vain however. He knew from the strong scent of roses that rolled off him in waves who was behind him. France didn’t HAVE to speak, but that had never stopped him before. In all truth they both knew that he was almost incapable of keeping silent when he thought there was a chance to annoy England. As far as England was concerned he was fairly certain that the only country less capable of biting their bloody tongue was America. He knew it was coming but he still recoiled from the almost sickly sweet voice as it reached his ears. “My sweet lapin surely you are not leaving so soon; and without even wishing the boys bon anniversar, how rude.” He couldn’t refrain from the slight snort at the very idea that France was calling him rude. 

England took a moment to compose himself before he replied. It was always a struggle to stay civil when talking with France. He really couldn’t explain why he considered them friends but it was some unspoken agreement between the two of them that whatever else might be going on they were friends. Getting his temper under control he replied after an exasperated sigh. “You know how much I hate it when you call me lapin frog.” He said his anger out of his voice but still evident in his gaze. To his annoyance the Frenchman didn’t falter at all only meeting angry green eyes with his own blue ones. Now that it was evident that Francis wasn’t going to back down Arthur gave another long suffering sigh and addressed the rest of Francis Bonnefoy’s comment from a moment ago. “As for Alfred and Mathew’s birthdays, Alfred has not had his yet and no matter what all you other nations think I know well enough to call Mathew on his actual birthday which was two days ago. If you do not believe me go and ask your precious Mathieu.” He purposely mocked the way France pronounced Canada’s human name. 

Even France was taken aback by England’s hostility. It was not as if they didn’t bicker, but due to this he was well aware that this was more venom then their little spats should cause. “Angleterre?” It wasn’t the name but the tone in which France said it that made England melt a tiny bit. He hadn’t really meant to snap at France. They were friends after all. It was just that every passing moment in the meeting room with the rising din agitated the nation more. He was on edge and the slightest thing might set him off and France could set him off in the best of circumstances. He still shouldn’t have snapped at him. 

With another sigh he melted another small bit. “I’m sorry France that was uncalled for.” He went to stand with his friend knowing that if anyone would understand his dismay it was probably France. He stood next to France and looked out to survey the gathered countries. No one was paying either of them much mind which was better considering the topic they were about to breach. “It’s just that you know how I get around this time of year. It’s hard.”

France touched his shoulder softly. “I know Angleterre, but eventually you will have to forgive Amerique for the revolution you know.” England shook his head at the comment. France was surprised. It must be about the revolution what else could it be. France was usually pretty good at reading England so to be so completely off base was a little concerning for the older nation. 

England felt a bit bad about unsettling France. It was rather hard to ruffle the French nations feathers. He usually enjoyed annoying France or making him confused but it turned out that was only fun when he was trying to annoy the other nation. “I forgave him for the revolution a long time ago. This is something different.” He looked around. “I don’t really want to talk about it here, but if you aren’t doing anything do you think we might discuss it over a pint?” He had to tell someone what was going on and as much as he didn’t like the idea of France knowing everything it was better than his other options. 

France hugged England, which startled him to say the least, but it was obviously France’s way of trying to comfort him. He had to admit that after the initial tensing of his shoulders the support from France wasn’t wholly unwelcome. “Of course mon ami. It has been a long while since we have shared after all.” He released England kissing him on both cheeks and then flitted away towards his two usual cohorts, Spain and Prussia. 

England let out a long exhale when he finally reached the hall without any other countries interfering. Now he could return to his hotel he might even get a nap in before he met with Francis that night. He could use a rest. Maybe he really was getting old if a simple meeting could make his so tiered especially when they didn’t even do anything. Of course it wasn’t the meeting that had tiered him out so much. Still it was a convenient excuse to explain away his aching bones and bursting headache. 

He was loosening his tie as he stepped into the lift. Just a few more minutes and there would be no chance of “HEY IGGY!” Oh God no. The last person he wanted to talk to right now would be America. Couldn’t the idiot just have stayed in the blasted meeting room and prattled on to his friends about whatever crazy things he had planned for tomorrow? Of course not that would have made it too easy for England. He pressed the button to close the door almost frantically trying to beat the American. If the door would just close before America got there. So close, one foot, ten inches, six inches, two inches . . .

A strong tanned hand shoot out at the last second pushing the door back to fully open. ‘Damn so close’ England thought as his green eyes slowly moved from the hand to the bright blue eyes framed by those ridiculous wire rimmed glasses. He set his features and mind to deal with the boy. He was beaming like the sun and why not after all tomorrow was his birthday for one day the world really did revolve around him. “Dude Iggy it’s almost as if you don’t want to talk to me.” He said leaning against the elevator door to make sure that is wouldn’t close again.

“I am afraid that if I had know this meeting was simply to discuss your over extravagant debt inducing party for the marrow I wouldn’t have come at all America. I have a flight back to London in the morning and as I am here there are a rather large number of things I should try and get done since nothing was done at the meeting.” It wasn’t too mean. It was a bit short and curt, but that was to be expected after all nothing had been done at the meeting other than discussing that party. What an utter waste of an afternoon. Still that smile faltering on the young nations face was a little heartbreaking. It wasn’t till a moment later that he found out why that smile had really faltered. 

“You mean you are leaving before my party?” He sounded like an upset five year old. Surely he knew that England hadn’t intended to come to his party in the first place. He rarely ever came. The whole bloody world was there his absence probably wasn’t even noticed by the birthday boy and he always called. He made it a point to call him every year on his birthday since they had reconciled. He had even shown up at his party a few times only on the big occasions where his boss had some sort of special gift for him to give America though. Unless he was diplomatically required to attend the festivities by his boss he usually stayed in his house in the country listening to angry punk music and drinking heavily laced tea. 

“I am afraid that I must disappoint you. I will not be able to attend as I leave at 0700 hours bright and early tomorrow morning. I will of course call to wish you the very best on your special day though.” The smile was back though it was a bit strained and obviously fake. England had to admit that he was actually impressed at how well America was handling himself. If he didn’t know better he would think that America didn’t actually care if he showed up or not. Maybe the boy really didn’t care? However that slight strain that twisted the very corner of his smile said otherwise. Well he would make it up to the boy some how it wasn’t as if missing his birthday would cause some kind of international incident. 

The boy was slowly letting the door to the elevator close to England’s great relief before he pushed it open again almost violently. “I just had the most amazing idea, What if we celebrate tonight just the two of us?” He asked his smile full force and fully real again as if this were the most wonderful idea ever. England’s stomach turned at the thought of what America would consider a proper celebration probably more McDonald’s than any normal human could consume fallowed by a mountain of ice cream and a marathon of every super hero movie ever made. Yes that sounded like the boy. Under other circumstances England may have been able to be amenable to the idea, but he really would rather spend time WITH America instead of just sharing space separately, which was really what the country was offering it seemed. 

“I’m afraid I must decline I have already made plans to spend tonight with Francis. It has been a long time since the two of us have reminisced and we see each other so rarely outside of meetings we thought we might talk of old times over a meal and drinks. I am sure you have many things to finalize for tomorrow anyway and I’m sure you would rather spend the night watching all those super hero movies you love so much without me there pointing out all of the impossibilities.” He said with a soft laugh to make the whole comment less serious. He did feel a bit bad about disappointing the boy, but he had his own reasons for never being around for America’s birthday if he could help it and there was no need to share them; not with America himself at any rate. Maybe someday, some year, he would tell him, but not this year. This year would be just like the others a nice gift sent and a curtesy call on the day. 

“Of course. I get it maybe some other time. There are restaurants everywhere after all right? Maybe we can get together after the next meeting or something.” America said a little confusion and maybe uncertainty slipping into his voice. “You will still call tomorrow though right? It’s always the highlight of my day.” He said. There was something the island nation couldn’t quite identify in the boy’s voice. 

“Of course America I always call on your birthday.” He said softly shoving the hand that was keeping the door open away. “I really must be going now.” He said with a soft smile and a gentlemanly wave as the door to the elevator finally closed separating the two. Both nations sighed as the barrier was closed. All England wanted to do was return to his hotel and pass out till France came with a heavy dose of liquid libations to dull the aching that filled his body.

~~~~~~~

“Al?” A soft voice floated up behind the American as he watched the closed door of the elevator. He turned to see his twin standing a few steps back looking worriedly at him.

He sighed. “He isn’t coming Matty? Why won’t Arthur ever come to my birthday party?” He sounded truly confused as the compassionate Canadian hugged his brother. 

“It’s Ok Al I’ll take you out tonight and we can talk about it aye?” He said with a soft smile that the slightly taller American nodded to as if he wasn’t quite sure what else to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been working on this for quite a while now and I actually think it is one of my better works. I plan to post one chapter per week and am already done with the first three. Since this is a mainly 4th of July centric fic however I thought it only right to post the first chapter today. This does not have a beta reader so please let me know of any mistakes you see so I can correct them. Reviews make me a better writer so please give me some feed back so I can improve and provide better stories in the future.


	2. Born On The Fourth Of July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night before Alfred's Party and things get hopelessly complicated.

Chapter Two: Born on the 4th of July

 

England wasn’t quite sure when he had gone to sleep, but it clearly hadn’t been his intention since he had fallen asleep on the small love seat in the living area of his hotel suite with an old episode of Doctor Who playing in the back round. He looked down to see he was still in his suit from earlier. He had removed the outer jacket and his tie was loose, but the shirt was still fully buttoned if a bit rumpled and the trousers were crisp black with just a few extra creases. He didn’t even have time to register what it was that had woken him before the swift crisp triple knock came again on his door.

The too familiar and often annoying voice of France wafted through the door. “Angletere it is rude to invite someone over only to leave them waiting at your doorstep.” England would have liked to point out that since this was a hotel it was no actually his doorstep and they never had actually specified a time to get together it had simply been later. Despite this France was here at his request though. For half a minute England considered sending the Frenchman away. In the end he remembered why he had asked for France to come in the first place and as much as he would have preferred talking to anyone else he felt rather certain that France was most likely to understand and least likely to judge. With this knowledge in place he rose from the love seat when the knocking came for a third time. 

The still slightly sleepy blonde considered trying to make himself a little more presentable, but he knew that France would make derogatory comments about his appearance no matter what he did so there was no real reason to put in the effort. The fact that there was no insult forthcoming when he opened the door was a clear indicator that the island nation looked even worse than he had first thought. He sighed and stepped aside to allow his often enemy and long time friend to enter the small hotel suite. 

To his credit France had brought no less than three bottles of exquisite wine with him. Though England would have preferred a nice lager he had no intention of going out onto the streets of D.C. and the liquor from the hotel’s minibar was insanely expensive even by American standards. So shortly after France’s arrival Arthur and Francis could be found sitting in the living room area each holding a glass of deep red with the bottle sitting on the low table between them. Though Arthur had invited him he was reluctant to explain to his old friend the exact nature of his problem. His current situation was a delicate one and he was a proud country, far too proud when it came down to it. His pride was a large part of his current problem after all. It was pride that kept his lips firmly sealed. 

By his third glass of wine England could feel the buzz starting to run through his veins as his lips finally started to loosen. “I’m proud of him you know.” He said finally opening up to the Frenchman who sat beside him pouring another glass of wine for himself as he topped off England’s own glass. France of course new that the only possible him England could be talking about was America, but he couldn’t help but tease England a bit after all England was far more amusing to the older nation when he was drunk, it was the only way he would say anything of significance after all. 

“Oh Aangletere? And who is this him you are so proud of?” The pronounced French accent making the letter s sound more like the letter z and eliminating the letter h entirely. The very sound of France was putting the slightly intoxicated nation on edge. He didn’t like the way even the most innocent things would sound lascivious when said by France. “Could it be that the petite lapin has a little crush on the birthday boy hum?” England turned red through anger or embarrassment it was impossible to tell really.

“It isn’t like that you Frog! Besides it isn’t really America that I’m proud of. I mean I am proud of America of course, but I’m so much prouder of Alfred. As England I am required to support America because of all our treaties and connections, but as Arthur I just wish I could tell ALFRED how proud I am of him. Don’t you ever think that our relationships would be easier if we were humans?” It was surprisingly insightful for England to talk this way when he was slowly getting more and more intoxicated by the glass that France wouldn’t allow to get any less than half full.

“And that is why you won’t go to young Amerique’s party?” France was confused. Wasn’t the party the perfect place to tell the younger nation how proud England was of him. France had to admit though with all the other countries there it wasn’t really Alfred’s party it was America’s. It finally registered to the old country how much harder their lives were made by their nation status. He had never had a terribly long lasting relationship, but it struck him how hard it would be to separate his own personal feelings from his countries. As England’s predicament really clicked into place all the older blonde could do was sigh and utter a resigned ‘mon dieu’ barely loud enough to be heard.

“Ah and the Frog finally catches onto my situation.” England said with a slightly rueful chuckle. “As England I hate that America split from me and still can’t quite forgive him for it, but as Arthur I just want to give him a hug and tell him happy birthday.” He sighed again. “Don’t you ever have this sort of conflict with Mathew? I mean he was always more yours than mine so he split from you far more than he did from me.” England said looking at the older nation for some kind of advice. 

“Non my pet. I love Mathieu in a different way than the way you love Alfred. I am proud of how strong and independent Mathieu is and we did not part as the two of you did. I let Mathieu go for he no longer needed me. There is no bad blood there as nations or people so there is no conflict of interests when it comes to Canada.” He said with a small apologetic look as he finished another glass of wine and opened a new bottle. 

England had gone on wobbly legs to look out the window. “It is raining cats and dogs out there. I won’t be able to fly out tomorrow.” He said not sure if he was glad or not. “I suppose it would be bad form to miss the celebration if I am still in town.” He said “Though I’m still very tempted to do so France. I have no desire to go to some extravagant affair to celebrate the American revolution.” 

~~~~~~~

“I don’t get it Mattie.” America said sitting with his brother. He had everything planned for his party so all there was for him to do now was sit and wait for it’s arrival. This should have been easy, but America was not known for being patient. He could have probably passed the time rather easily with video games or a movie marathon featuring his favorite super heroes, but instead he found himself sitting with his brother wondering why England hated him.

“He doesn’t hate you Al he is just busy. It isn’t a holiday for him after all. I mean it isn’t like he came to Canada for my birthday either.” Mathew said trying to console his brother since there was no chance he was getting to sleep before Alfred did. 

“That is different and you know it.” America said a little dejectedly. “Besides it isn’t just this year he never comes to my party. I mean it was over 200 years ago when is the old man going to let it go already. I mean it’s not like I hate him anymore I just wanted to prove that I didn’t need him supporting me to be strong. I just wanted to make him proud and he’s been holding it over my head for 240 years now.” America bemoaned as he flopped backwards onto the couch throwing his arms up in exasperation. 

“That isn’t true Al he came to your bicentennial didn’t he? He even gave you that nice new bell to celebrate didn’t he?” Mattie said diplomatically. He knew why Al was really upset, because it was his brother Alfred who was sad not Canada’s brother America. It was rare for the countries to act on their own without their people or bosses dictating what they did, but when it was just America and him they weren’t countries they were just brothers and that was the only time Alfred really talked about how he felt. Mathew didn’t blame him for that of course it was hard to talk about how they felt as people when they were supposed to reflect how their citizens felt after all. 

Alfred signed and nodded at Mathew’s attempt at diplomacy. “Yeah, but that was just cause the prime minister made him like when he gave me a unicorn when I turned 100. That was so weird.” Al said with a small shake of his head. He wasn’t willing to admit that he had actually left out food and water for the unicorn he supposedly had ever since. He couldn’t see the animal but he couldn’t help hoping it was there especially since the food was always gone when he came back the next day. He treasured the gifts he had gotten from England more than he should really. They weren’t very practical gifts in all honesty they were kind of useless, but despite that he treasured them even more. The one thing he didn’t like was that they came from England. It was always great to get a gift from England of course, but just once Al would have loved to get a gift from Arthur. Something silly and sentimental that wasn’t about their history and past as countries but about them as people. America didn’t need anything as a country, but as a person there were a lot of things Alfred wanted. 

“Maybe this year will be different. With the weather like this I don’t think he will be going anywhere tomorrow.” Mathew said looking out the window at the storm he was pretty sure was projecting his brother’s gloomy mood. Mathew had a theory that a country’s weather depended heavily on the mood of its personification. Right now Al was depressed and angry and the weather showed it. It may have also been a subconscious way to make sure that England’s flight was canceled though. Mathew wouldn’t put it past his brother to try and summon a rain storm to keep England grounded till his party. 

“You are totally right Mattie.” Alfred said. He got up and grabbed his bomber jacket from where it was resting on the back of one of the chairs at his table. He had a huge grin. Something about it all didn’t add up though. As he started towards the door it came together.

“Al?” He asked stopping his brother short. He couldn’t be thinking what Mathew thought he was thinking. Would Alfred really do that? He would have to be insane to even go out in this weather. Of course common sense had never been Alfred’s strongest point. “You aren’t really going out to find him are you?” Mathew asked. He had to be sure just how insane his brother was. 

Alfred’s grin grew wider. He had a crazy idea, and Alfred’s crazy ideas only ended one way. Well they actually ended one of two ways, but when it was about England they only ended one way. Mattie really had hoped his brother would let it drop at least this once, but that just wasn’t in Alfred and he knew it. He just hoped there wouldn’t be too many pieces to pick up this time. 

When Mattie said he would take Al out this wasn’t what he meant. They were in Washington D. C. one of the most exciting cities in the world and he did not think that going to the hotel where England was staying was the best place to go. There were any number of bars around the city or restaurants that would be better suited to what the mild mannered nation had meant. It seemed that Canada’s meaning of taking Al out made no difference to the head strong nation though. “Al this is a bad idea.” Canada said as he grabbed his own jacket and keys rushing after his brother. 

He didn’t catch up to America until he saw his brother walk into the tall hotel. “This is going to be very messy.” He said watching his brother enter the building. There was nothing for it now. He knew there might be a chance of changing America’s mind it he had caught him before he got to the hotel, but it was too late now Alfred was going to do whatever crazed plan had entered his head. Mathew sat down on a padded bench in the entry way to the large extravagant hotel. He would much rather wait for his brother to reappear than see it all go down. He glanced at his watch. The hands were both completely vertical. It was exactly midnight. “Happy birthday Al.” Canada said leaning back and looking up at the softly glowing windows wondering which one held England and was therefore America’s destination. 

~~~~~~~

Arthur had left behind buzzed a long time ago. He was now utterly plastered. France had made a short trip back to his own hotel room for reinforcements in the way of more wine. He had meant it to be a gift for America, but he was sure he had something else suitable for the boy and America never really appreciate good wine anyway. Of course in his current state England wouldn’t appreciate it either, but at least he could when he wasn’t three sheets to the wind.

France for his part had stopped trying to make sense of the Englishman’s ranting and had instead just started to think about how long it would take to pluck the other man’s eyebrows. His final conclusion was that it would take far too long. He would never finish before the other nation sobered up enough to punch him. Besides in England’s current state it probably wasn’t the best idea to do something that would anger him so much. It would be a lot of fun, but not nice. Despite most of the countries opinions he could be considerate when he wanted to be.

After an inordinate amount of wine plus a bit of cognac France had been able to find England had passed out very ungracefully with a final yelled inquiry about weather he was catholic or protestant. It was the same thing he always ended up yelling when he became too drunk to make sense anymore. It was a valid question considering his past, but for some reason the only time the once empire questioned his religious past was when he was too drunk to care about his image. France looked at his old friend. He would have a terrible head ache in the morning. He would probably feel so bad he wouldn’t be lying if he said he felt too ill to attend America’s party after all. 

For a while France considered just leaving England as he was and returning to his own room until he felt tiered enough to sleep. He wasn’t used to the time difference yet so he wasn’t tiered despite it being slightly past midnight. Washington was a few hours behind his own country and New York may be the city that never sleeps but Paris was the city of lights and what better time to see those light than at night? He took one last look at England passed out on the couch and changed his mind. He couldn’t leave him there. He should stay to watch over him or at least put him to bed. With a sigh the Frenchman returned to the couch to asses the situation. 

It took about three tries but eventually France was able to hoist the unconscious England into his arms to carry him to the next room and place him on the bed. He couldn’t help but laugh. Memories of the past made him chuckle this was far from the first time he had brought England to bed weather it be one of his house’s in France or England’s own in London. That had stopped a long time ago of course, but it still made France chuckle at how odd it seemed to be placing England in a bed again. He wondered if it would be inappropriate to change England’s cloths. Probably so but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before after all. 

France was searching for some form of sleep cloths for then Englishman. He had neglected to do so until he had already stripped the man of everything but his boxers. He could have just left England like that, but he didn’t relish the tongue lashing he would get if England found he was half naked come morning. This wouldn’t have mattered of course if France hadn’t already decided that he was by no means going to leave England to his own devices when he was this drunk even if he had already passed out. This was why despite everything that had happened between them and the political standing of their two countries the men still considered the other a friend.

Nothing could have surprised France more than the knock he heard on England’s door. It was past midnight and he knew his old friend well enough that he would not have invited anyone else over. It was astounding that England had invited him over in the first place so it seemed even more unlikely that this was another invited guest. Despite this Francis was not about to let someone wait outside the unconscious nation’s door. He was there after all so there was no reason to leave the door unanswered. It could be important after all. At this hour of the night France couldn’t quite think of any other reason to be knocking on a door unless it was for a more lascivious purpose, but to the best of his knowledge one of England’s main problems was that he was not having any of that kind of fun lately.

France had thought the knock at all was the most surprising thing that could have happened, but he found himself proven wrong when he opened the door to find a flushed and rather breathless America on the other side. America seemed just as surprised to see him and why not after all he had come expecting to see England not France. Of course if he was telling the truth he wanted to see Arthur the person not England the country. Either way though France was probably the last person he had expected to see open the door. Didn’t France and England hate each other? No of course they didn’t really hate each other if bickering resulted in hate then you might just as easily assume that America and England hated each other, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

As America stood at the door in confusion he remembered an off handed comment from England about having made plans with Francis. However, England had said they were going out for dinner and drinks to reminisce. It was past midnight. If they had truly gone out for dinner and drinks they should have been back for hours now. Well the easy way to figure it out was to just ask after all France was just standing there in front of him. The young nation plastered on very fake smile. “Hey France nice to see you here, but I just gotta wonder . . .”

“Frog get you bloody arse back in here this instant!” America didn’t get to finish his question for the Frenchman. He knew that voice. There was no way to mistake that voice. It was the voice that had filled his head for hours now. It had filled his head for years actually. Even when England wasn’t there the voice in his head telling him something was a bad idea or that he didn’t have the funding for something spoke with that same heavy English accent and slight bite to it. He would never be rid of that voice and he wouldn’t want to be, but at this moment he would have given anything to have not heard it. Even worse than the voice however was the sight that accompanied it. There he stood those bright green eyes staring right at him. He was stripped down to nothing but his boxers his hair even more disheveled than usual. Alfred had imagined him like that enough to know what he had just walked in on. Under other circumstances if it were just the two of them he may have salivated at the sight, but at the moment it was a struggle to keep down the bile quickly filling his stomach. He of course knew that England and France had sexual relations in the past, but he had thought that was all over with now. Yet here was France with a half naked England in his hotel room in the middle of the night. It wasn’t rocket science. 

It took a minute for the green eyes to clear the fog and focus on the form in his doorway. He may have been a little fuzzy around the edges, but it was still him. England was very drunk, but surely he wasn’t at the hallucination state yet. Then he must really be here. Why though? Why would he be here? There was no logical reason for Alfred to be standing in his doorway at 12:27AM. As far as England knew there was no logical reason for Alfred to be standing at his doorway at all, but that had never seemed to stop the younger nation before. “Alfred?” He said it as a question he knew that. It wasn’t a question though because he knew the boy was there the longer he stared the clearer the form of him became. If he weren’t there he would have disappeared into smoke the longer England looked it had happened enough times in the past for England to tell the difference, and this was different.

“Arthur . . .” America would have given anything not to be there right now. He vaguely registered the idea that Mathew had been right again. He never should have come here unannounced in the middle of the night. What was he expecting some big gesture of love and devotion before falling into each other’s arms and crying about all the lost time concluding in a promise from England that he would be at his party. No America had known that wouldn’t happen, but some small childish part of him had hoped. That small hope had been utterly crushed though. Here England stood half naked and flushed with France. His head brought up England’s words from earlier. England had told Alfred he was going out with France tonight, but he hadn’t thought this was what he meant. Alfred was dimly aware that he was just standing in the door of the hotel suite for far too long now. “Um . . . I just wanted to wish you a good flight, but I can see that I’m interrupting . . . something.” He couldn’t stomach giving what he had walked in on a name. “Goodbye Arthur.” He almost ran from the open door. That could not have gone worse if he wanted it to.

“Alfred . . . Wait!” It was too late. He was already gone. Arthur tried to fallow but only made it two steps before he collapsed on the floor somewhere between the bedroom and the front door. England looked completely confused. He knew what had happened of course, but it was how to proceed that baffled the once empire. The encounter had not been pleasant but it had served to sober up the Englishman some. He looked up at France his eyes filled with despair and tears he didn’t have the energy to hide. “What now?” He said slowly rising to his feet. It was the sheer exhaustion of the day and his final encounter with Alfred that made him move slowly. 

France fallowed England to the bedroom. He felt even less like leaving England alone in his current state then he had when England was passed out drunk. He stood in the doorway to the bedroom watching his old friend as he retrieved his pajama’s. “The answer is simple mon petit lapin, but you will not like the answer.” He said. France was met by angry green eyes under thick brows. Obviously his friend didn’t want to play that game right now. “You must go to Amerique’s birthday party of course Angletere. There is really no other option.” The only reply France got was the resounding slam of the bathroom door as England went to take a shower. He shook his head with a laugh. He decided to return to the living area he would be fine on the sofa for the night. He shut the door to the suite that the American had left open before he descended onto the sofa. “Bon Annniversaire Amerique.” He said as he noticed it was already past midnight. He closed his eyes not fully sure if he wanted the day to be over or not.

~~~~~~~

Mathew almost missed his brother’s return. He looked nothing like himself. Mathew had known it wouldn’t end well, but this looked even worse. His brother was in bad shape. Alfred didn’t even look at him he just walked right out the front door into the pouring rain. Due to the fact that the rain had only gotten worse Canada could only assume the same for his brother’s mood. He grabbed an umbrella from the hotel; glad to go unnoticed for once since he had a feeling it would be a while before he got the chance to return the umbrella to the hotel. 

Mattie came up behind Alfred and opened up the umbrella to cover his brother. It didn’t seem to have much of an effect on the tall American. Eventually after standing still for a minute or two his brother shielding him from the rain Alfred seemed to coma back from wherever his mind had wandered off to. He turned to Canada a look of defeat painting his usually happy features to an unsettling blankness. “Take me home Mattie.” He said.

He doesn’t make any move on his own but Alfred is unresisting when his brother’s free hand comes to rest on his shoulder and slowly pushes him into a slow forward motion. Mathew is used to picking up the pieces, but in this situation he is at a loss. He can’t quite figure out how to help his obviously depressed brother. After a few blocks of silent walking through rain soaked streets he gives an audible sigh hoping to draw Alfred’s attention. America doesn’t look over but the slight tense of his shoulders is signal enough that he is listening. The Canadian proceeds timidly. “Do you want to talk about it Al?” He asks.

He is aware that Canada’s words are meant kindly. He knows his brother is just trying to help. Usually talking about a problem is a good choice. Right now talking is the last thing American wants to do. He stops his forward motion for a moment. He turns to his brother. The utterly crushed look is more than enough of a reply. Despite the lack of need he adds the simple words “Just take me home Mattie.” They walk the rest of the way to America’s house in silence. As his brother disappears into the bowels of the house not even bothering to turn on the lights as he goes Canada can only hope that morning will be a truly happy birthday for his brother. Despite his hope he knows only one nation, one person, can make it so and it isn’t him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is chapter two I'm so proud of me for keeping on top of this. I hope you all like it. Please keep in mind that this has not been proof read by anyone but me so any errors grammatical or otherwise let me know so I can fix them. As always thanks in advance.  
> Winter_Storm


	3. Mind The Music And The Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America's party comes, but he still hasn't gotten his birthday wish.

Chapter Three: Mind the Music and the Steps

 

The whole country was celebrating and why shouldn’t they be after all it was the fourth of July. Despite the intoxicating atmosphere of the country on such a high there was one blonde haired green eyes nation in a hotel room who felt like doing anything other than celebrating. None the less, even though he was not in anything resembling a celebratory mood, he was brushing his teeth getting ready to attend his very first fourth of July party, or at least the first that he would be going to when not obligated to attend. He had made an appearance at others, but he actually had to show up and stay this year at least long enough to make sure that America didn’t have the wrong idea about the previous night. Who was he kidding of course America had the wrong idea. Why couldn’t they ever just communicate. Well it was too late to think about that now.

A knock came at his door. He didn’t even need to think about who it was and since the Frenchman had swiped his spare key card when he left early that morning the knock was quickly fallowed by the door opening without him taking a single step in it’s direction. “Francis if you insist on entering all willy-nilly why did you bother knocking in the first place?” He asked after he spit the last of his tooth paste into the sink.

The Frenchman perfectly quaffed as always just laughed with a toss of his blonde hair. He elegantly lowered himself onto the single chair in the bedroom to better talk with England. “Oh no real reason Angleterre after all it is not as if there is anything I haven’t seen before, but I know how modest you are when sober so I knocked for your own piece of mind.” He said with a small smirk. He enjoyed teasing England about their past amorous relations far too much in England’s opinion. “Besides angletere I am simply here for moral support we both know that without me you will just mope in this hotel room and try to drown your sorrow in the woefully under supplied minibar. Besides at least at Amerique’s party there is sure to be plenty of liquor.” The lack of response from the English man proved the point that France was indeed right. England rarely argued with France when he knew the other was right, but that didn’t mean he would ever admit to France being right so silence was all he could expect to get on the subject.

A few minutes later England emerged. He didn’t usually put much effort into his appearance, but actually kind of wanted to look nice today. Unfortunately, he hadn’t intended to do anything other than go to the meeting so the only options he had were his black suit, his green military uniform, and a punk inspired outfit he would never be caught dead in at America’s blasted party. Due to his lack of options he ended up in his black suit pants and the white button down shirt that went with it. He didn’t have to look in France’s direction to know the derisive sniff was in disapproval of his outfit. Arthur let out a sigh but refused to rise to the older countries sound of derision. France of course would not have this and had to comment all the same. “Are you really planning to wear that to Amerique’s party mon lapin?” He said standing up and circling the shorter nation like a vulture. 

England sighed again as France circled him. “I don’t exactly travel with an entire wardrobe full of choices Francis. Besides why do you care what I wear you have spent our entire history trying to make me look as foolish as you.” He said still a little bitter about how wonderful France could look even in the most ridiculous of fashion trends. “It doesn’t matter what I wear I am simply going to explain to Alfred that there is nothing going on between me and you.” England said as he tried to flatten his hair. Unfortunately, France knew enough to know that if England was in fact trying to flatten his hair it mattered more than he was willing to admit. 

France sighed as he watched his long time frenemie’s efforts covertly. He was not known for being the most helpful when it came to England, but he supposed he could make an exception this one time at least. If anyone asked he could just say that his desire to support love over powered his desire to torment England. In truth he was really just sick of having to watch these two idiots not realize how in love with each other they were. He was doing everyone a favor in his opinion. At first it had been amusing, but now it was just a bore. “Very well Angletere we will find you something more appropriate en route.” He said grabbing the sleeve of England’s dress shirt and tugging him towards the door.

England wrestled his shirt sleeve from France only once they were already half way out of the door. “Francis let go.” He basically screamed at his friend. He rolled his eyes in despair at the ruined creases on his sleeves. “Great Francis now I look even worse. Do you really hate me that much?” He asked trying to straighten the wrinkles out of his sleeve. His attention diverted from France he missed the mischievous look on the older nations face. Due to his inattention France had quickly maneuvered him into the elevator. England took the long ride to the lobby to glare at France sure that he was not going to enjoy anything that the frog had planned for them.

France appeared entirely too happy when they reached the lobby. By some crazy miracle France was able to get a cab in record time. England always had to wait forever for a cab to notice him and would just take a diplomatic car in the end finding it more reliable if slower. “Saks 5th Avenue please.” He purred with a smile that would charm the pants off anyone no matter what their sexual preferences. England at that point tried to jump right out of the car. “Come now Arthur this will be fun besides I must find a new present for Alfred since you drank the wine I was going to give him last night.” He wasn’t happy about it but he resigned himself to the fact that he, Arthur Kirkland, had somehow gotten himself in a position to be once again made over by France. This had never resulted in anything Arthur could call good.

It took more than three hours but eventually England was remade to France’s satisfaction. If Arthur had any say in the matter he would have changed back to his black slacks and white dress shirt, but France knowing this had hidden them somewhere. He would rather not think about exactly where, but it was pretty obvious he would not get the clothing back till the fallowing morning. He was going to beat that blasted French frog so hard King Louise XVI would feel it in his grave. This was going to be so humiliating. Still as the car pulled up to America’s house depositing two blondes on the young nation’s front porch there was no other option left. Just in case the blue eyed blonde put a restrictive arm on England’s shoulder just to make sure he wouldn’t try and bolt again.

~~~~~~~

The sunny smile America gave everyone was very convincing considering that all he could see every time he blinked was England and France together, but no it wasn’t about that it was about Arthur being with Francis not about England being with France. For reasons he didn’t want to think about the fact that it was clearly Arthur and Francis made it hurt much more. For some reason it was a lot easier to deal with when he thought about them as countries, but that had always been a bit of an issue. When you were the personification of a nation the line between you as a nation and you as a human became ever more blurred as time went on. One thing was very clear though Alfred was jealous NOT America but Alfred.

Canada was keeping a close eye on his brother to make sure he enjoyed himself as much as he could. He had been in a funk since last night, but besides the fact that it had to do with England he hadn’t been able to get anything more out of his brother on the matter. He had ideas though. He had to commend his brother for his composure he almost looked happy. He probably passed for happy to anyone who didn’t know Al as well as Mattie did and there was probably no one who knew Alfred like Mattie did. The storm from the previous night hadn’t let up though which probably meant that Alfred no matter how much better he looked was just as much of an emotional wreck as he had been the previous night. He just hoped that Arthur would show up soon there was only so long Alfred could hold that false smile before it got scary.

He sensed him before he saw him. It was odd really. He always knew when England was around even when he was a colony. He was always at the docks ready to greet England because he could feel the older nation like a tug at him saying pay attention. He didn’t need to be told to pay attention to England, but it was sort of nice to have a small sort of warning system of when England was around. It gave him a minute or so to compose himself and at least try to look impressive in one way or another. His smile turned from fake to real. Arthur came he was here and that was all Alfred needed until he remembered the previous night. Now he was stuck. He was ecstatic that Arthur came but couldn’t deal with seeing him and Francis together again. He didn’t know if he should search for or hide from Arthur, but soon the decision would be taken out of his hands anyway.

~~~~~~~

Arthur was still trying to bolt when the door was opened by Canada to receive them. He breathed a sigh to see Arthur there though his attire did cause the young Canadian to raise a brow. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t see Arthur in casual cloths before he had but this didn’t look at all like the kind of thing Arthur would even buy for himself let alone actually wear. “France took me shopping.” He said in explanation to Canada’s confusion. To the older nations relief, the mild young man nodded in understanding. Canada had been raised by France for a long time if anyone understood the lengths it took to stop the nation of love it was probably him. 

Arthur shifted from foot to foot a little nervous before shoving his hands out in front of him. He hadn’t planned on getting America a present but it would be rude to show up without something for his once colony after all. “I um know my boss already sent an . . . official gift, but I thought that Alfred might like this.” He said. Canada looked a bit baffled but took the box all the same. He looked at Arthur and then with a brief glance at Alfred Grabbed France’s hand. Before anyone had time to think Canada was dragging France away from the confused Briton. “Well he is acting oddly.” England said watching the two light blonde heads disappear into the mob of people America had managed to fit into his home. 

England looked around for a bit not sure what to do with himself really. It was odd after so many years. He had always heard about how large and extravagant America’s birthday parties were, but somehow he had imagined something different. After a few minutes of just standing in the doorway sighing wondering how fast France would drag his ass back if he tried to run he started to wade through the sea of people. He wasn’t really looking for Alfred he didn’t particularly want to see him, but he couldn’t just stay standing in the front door way for the whole party. 

It was almost frightening how easily he was drawn to the bar. It seemed America had hired a professional for the job. England wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he had a feeling that the boy wouldn’t be foolish enough to hire someone that couldn’t be trusted with who they all were after all though they all did use their human names on occasion they were first and foremost countries. Of course England had been trying to deal with the entire concept of human versus country for the past few days. As far as he understood it the two conflicting side of himself and America for that matter were the entire problem. 

It took a total of fifteen minutes for England to retreat to a slightly secluded corner of the room with his glass of ale. He would usually choose scotch or wine, but he felt that this particular occasion called for something a little more casual. The party was lavish of course, but it was his understanding that traditionally the fourth of July was a casual holiday with beer, hot dogs, hamburgers, and fireworks. It was not his tradition of course, but he wasn’t going to go against the tradition without giving it a fair shake. 

He soon grew rather attached to his little corner. He liked the view he could see anyone who might be approaching him and a lot more besides. It was almost nice to see all of the countries relax instead of arguing and worrying about things like economy or global warming. As time passed he couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had almost forgotten why he was here at all. If circumstances hadn’t been as they were he might even venture to say he was enjoying himself. He would never admit something like that, but had to admit that he did understand the appeal of America’s over the top parties now. 

All he had to do now was stay reasonably sober and explain to Alfred that nothing was going on between Francis and him. That however was the entire reason he was sort of hiding in a corner nursing a glass of ale trying to ignore the occasionally too loud laugh and the bob of an enticing blonde head with that one lock of hair that would never lay flat. There were times he wished he could hate Alfred Jones, but then one smile from that joyous boy would melt his heart all over again. How was he ever going to manage getting through this god damned party with his sanity intact.

~~~~~~~

Alfred didn’t want to see it. Arthur and Francis together maybe holding hands or talking in hushed voices, or maybe even kissing. He didn’t want to even think about it. They were always together though even if they were at each other’s throats they were still nearly inseparable at times. How could he possibly compete with that? Still he knew he would see them together before too long after all he was always drawn to England. He couldn’t help it. There was a string connecting him to England that he could never sever and didn’t want to even if he had been able to.

It had taken maybe a total of fifteen seconds after his entrance for Alfred’s eyes to zero in on Arthur and almost as many minutes for his mind to recover from it. He of course loved how Arthur looked in his old man sweater vests, clean cut suits, and punk cloths; he even liked his olive colored military uniform; but this was different. He had never seen Arthur like this and despite how much he didn’t look like himself or entirely comfortable truthfully there was no denying that the sight of him made Alfred’s heart skip a beat and his mouth to go dry.

He looked amazing. Alfred’s eyes traveled from the top of his head to his feet and back up again just to be sure it was Arthur. There was no mistaking those eyes it was definitely him. His feet were clad in high polished shoes he had a feeling they were probably designer Italian leather. He could ask Feliciano later to be sure; Feliciano could spot Italian leather from a mile away. The shoes were just the start though. He wore a pair of slim black dress pants. They weren’t that different from suit pants, but the way they fit him was completely different. Arthur was usually sort of swallowed by his cloths. He didn’t pay much attention to fit and ended up in clothing that was a size or two to large for him just for the sake of comfort. These pants looked like they had been custom made to fit him though. They accentuated his slimmer physique and displayed his tempting ass in a way Alfred wasn’t sure he was totally comfortable with. The belt around his waist shone with the same sort of high polish to match his shoes. He wore a shirt of very fine quality. It wasn’t flashy, but it was not his normal white button down. It was a soft green the sort that reminded Alfred of sun light shone through the leaves of forest trees. It was amazing the way it seemed to shift colors so no matter what it always perfectly matched Arthur’s eyes. Arthur wore green only rarely and Alfred always thought that was a shame. His military uniform was green but it was a dull sort of olive that did nothing for the older nations eyes. There were small pinstripes of a darker green at regular intervals. The pinstripes would occasionally glitter in his party lights like Arthur’s eyes did when he was truly happy. He fallowed the sleeves of Arthurs’ shirt down to his hands. He had to cover a laugh. Arthur wore a black leather wrist band on his right and a union jack wrist band on his left. It seemed that no matter how much he cleaned up there was no chance in completely removing the punk rocker from England. Alfred liked it that way though. It reminded Alfred that it was still Arthur. 

Eyes moving back up to his face Alfred felt his mouth go just a bit dry all over again. It wasn’t until he looked more closely that he realized why. Arthur’s hair was carefully mussed. It wasn’t as if his hair ever laid flat it was that it was messy on purpose tonight. His eyes looked even more green and prominent than normal thanks to a carefully added thin line of coal black eye liner. They were still topped by eyebrows that looked more like caterpillars, but despite all the teasing Alfred liked his eyebrows as well. On top of all of this something glittered catching Alfred’s eye for just a moment. He swallowed a lump in his throat realizing there was s small gold hoop hanging from England’s left ear. Alfred had to turn away. That earing only reminded him of when England had gotten out his old pirate paraphernalia for a Halloween party the year before. The image of England dressed as a pirate had done a real number on Alfred’s heart. The vison was seared into his brain forever and he had no doubt this image would be a repeat of that. Afraid of what he might do Alfred quickly started to move away from the older country. He had to lose himself in the party at least to give his mind a chance to recover. Who was he kidding there was no recovering from that. His only hope was that he wouldn’t make a complete fool of himself.

Amazingly enough the birthday boy was able to immerse himself in the festivities and lose sight of Arthur for quite a while. He could always find him of course by fallowing the soft pull on his heartstrings. He found just the knowledge that Arthur was there rubbing off on him though. They hadn’t even spoken yet but he felt better than he had since before Arthur rejected his party invitation. He actually felt better than he had in years. Alfred wasn’t exactly sure why England came at all; there must have been a flight back to his own country by now, but he was too happy to question it. If he had he would not have liked his conclusion so it was probably best that he didn’t stop to think about it too hard.

The tension between the two blonde countries was not lost on the other attendees. Even the most oblivious of the party goers soon noticed the extreme care America and England were taking to avoid each other. To the untrained eye it wouldn’t have seemed that odd but after years of watching the two tip-toe around each other anyone would have noticed. Even Italy felt the growing tension in the room as time went by. Neither America or England noticed how they would glance at each other, but a few other countries did. Despite the obvious tension between the two no one was going to do anything to change it. Well maybe one person was.

The only person willing to make a move to break this whole ridiculous avoidance was France. He never avoided anything and he was not about to let two of his closest allies avoid each other all night. The entire reason for Arthur even being there was to talk to America and instead he was standing in a dark corner watching the young nation. America was not doing any better though instead of walking over and talking to England he was dancing in the exact middle of the dance floor with whoever happened to be near by. “Mon Dieu! Must I do everything myself?” The exclamation left the Frenchman with a good deal of venom. He waded through the throng of people dancing to reach the birthday boy. He grabbed Alfred’s hand and spun him in hard, before spinning him out even harder; hard enough to send him out of control until he stopped directly in front of England. “Hon hon hon you are welcome Angleterre.” France said with an all too self satisfied smirk.

He was floored all over again. He felt a huge lump rise in his throat and took quite a few seconds trying to swallow it down. It wasn’t as if he was ever on his game when England was around, but tonight it was ten times worse. Why couldn’t he have just worn one of those frumpy old man sweater vests? Why did he have to look so damn sexy tonight? The universe was obviously conspiring against him that was the only explanation really. He cleared his throat a few times. He made the mistake of looking at those green eyes when he opened his mouth though and all words were lost. He meant to say Hi Artie but all that came out was a very odd squeak. England rose one bushy brow at the American in curiosity. Alfred had to look away. He couldn’t function with those eyes on him. He looked down finding himself staring into a half full glass of ale. He smiled lightly at a memory. “Are you Catholic or Protestant.” He said with a small laugh risking a glance toward the Brit’s eyes. 

England stared at him hard for a moment. “What are you talking about idiot? I am both as almost all us nations are. I am also Episcopal, Jewish, Islamic, and several others but you have never shown much interest in my religious history, any of my history actually, since apparently being the hero means that you only care about others when it involves you coming to their rescue.” He didn’t mean to be quite that harsh, but the day was starting to get to him. It was not as if he wanted to celebrate America’s separation from him. He wasn’t here to celebrate though that much had been true from the beginning. “I am in no need of a hero at the moment America you should go back to enjoying your festivities.” England hid his cowardice in a healthy gulp of ale. He didn’t want to show America how much he wished the boy would stay; just once. It wasn’t exactly fair for him to think like that of course. England pushed America away just as hard as he held onto him. He had never found that happy medium. When he was young England had clung to him much too hard, and now... despite his efforts everything he did pushed the boy away. Would he never learn?

America turned red. He had almost hoped that England was drunk he was always more forthcoming when drunk. He was not a nice drunk by any stretch of the imagination. England actually became rather violent when drunk, but at least that way Alfred didn’t have to worry about looking foolish since England wouldn’t remember anything too clearly come morning. If England had been drunk his response to the younger mans question would have been something along the lines of ‘God, I don’t know?’ It was kind of cute how he was never really sure, but this wasn’t the time to think about that really. He frowned a bit at England’s comment. Was that really how England saw him? It was true that he wanted to be a hero, Arthur’s hero as a matter of fact, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care. He cared all the time at least when it came to England, no not England when it came to Arthur. He cared about England of course, but he cared a lot more about Arthur which he knew wasn’t exactly the same. He was also well aware that wasn’t exactly the way it should be, but it wasn’t as if he could change that. He loved Arthur and Arthur would always come first if he was telling the truth. 

The American wanted to stay, but England clearly wanted to be left alone, or at least not be kept company by him. He hovered for a moment not exactly sure what to do. Did he have to leave? He supposed that he could just stay after all it was his party he should be able to do whatever he wanted right? He felt a painful tug on his heartstrings at England’s defeated look. Did being here really hurt his old care taker that much? He never should have asked him. This had to be painful why had he never really considered that before? He would leave England alone after all that was what he wanted. He coughed once to get the older blonde’s attention. England looked up one bushy eyebrow arched at the young man. He smiled as brightly as he could which was blinding considering how his heart soared whenever he was near England. “I’m really glad you came Arthur.” The Brit blushed lightly. 

America rushed away to be swallowed by the party again only his Nantucket peaking out above the rest of the crowd. Arthur watched him a bit wistfully as he disappeared. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world Alfred.” He whispered the words to the blank space in front of him. That would have been the perfect time to tell him. He could have said it so easily how there was nothing between France and himself, how proud he was of him, how much he still cared about him, how he loved him. He let it slip away though. He had let so many opportunities with the young man slip away. He downed what remained of his ale, well that wasn’t going to get him drunk quick enough to save this evening. 

On his way to get a new and stronger drink he turned at the unmistakable smell of roses. How he could still smell France so distinctly when he was surrounded by so many different smells was something he didn’t even want to contemplate. He supposed it was some kind of defense mechanism that he had built up over the years to warn him when he was about to be assaulted. “Hon hon hon.” That damned laugh was like nails on a chalkboard to England. He sighed even before he felt the arm descend on to his shoulder. He did not need this right now no matter how well meant France’s intentions were. “I saw you talking to young Amerique, Angleterre. I assume the boy understands about last night? Perhaps even the two of you will do a little more intimate celebrating later?” He said with another one of those infuriating laughs. England flung Frances’ hand from his shoulders and glared at his fellow nation.

France for once in his life didn’t dare get any closer to the wild haired blonde. He had been on the receiving end of many glares from England, but this was probably the most frightening. Even when they were at war with each other England had never looked at him with quite this much venom. “YOU” In that single word were all the misunderstandings and frustrations of decades. “This is all your fucking fault you fucking frog. Why can’t you just stay out of my life every single time I end up in your company everything goes horribly wrong in my life. For someone who claims to be such an expert at love you suck at playing cupid you know that? From now on just leave your fat frog face out of my life, love or otherwise!” He was deadly quiet so as to not draw any attention from the rest of the party, but England could not have made more of an impression if he screamed bloody murder. France watched frozen in fear as England left for the terrace mumbling something about needing some fresh air. 

~~~~~~~

If anyone had looked for England they would have found him out on the terrace. It was really more like a balcony, but it was open and away from the crush of people desperate to make their best regards for America heard above all the others. England would just slip out with everyone when the festivities were done and call the boy to make sure to convey his best wishes for a prosperous year. He could be the professional England when he was back in his own country and didn’t have to look into America’s blue eyes when they spoke. It was too hard to be England when those blue eyes looked at him like America’s did. He wanted so much to be Arthur when those crystal blue pooled locked on him as if he were something precious. He glanced up to see a tall blonde holding out a glass of water to him with a soft almost apologetic smile. 

For a moment his heart leapt thinking America had come looking for him until he met the others eyes. They weren’t that blinding blue he was so used to but a soft lilac. Most people believed that Arthur had no idea who Canada even was, but that was vastly untrue; he only mistook the two when they were facing away from him. He did sometimes see what he wanted to see in the milder twin, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tell the two apart when he really looked. He sighed and took the glass of water Mathew offered him. “Thank you Matthew.” England said in an almost frightening monotone. He looked at the glass and swirled the clear liquid around a few times. He didn’t need to sober up since he wasn’t drunk, but water was probably a much safer choice than more ale or even worse scotch. “I’m surprised you were able to slip away since most people can’t tell you and Alfred apart I would have thought you were being mobbed as much as him.” England said taking a sip of the water.

Canada let out a small laugh at the older nation. “Being invisible sometimes has its advantages. I mean you seem to be trying pretty hard to disappear. If you were me, you wouldn’t have to try at all it would just happen.” He laughed to show that he didn’t really mind it so much. “Thanks for wishing me a happy birthday by the way it is always nice to know someone remembers.” He leaned on the terrace railing so both he and Arthur were looking out at the skyline. He didn’t want to bring it up, but he had to say something. If not for Alfred and Arthur at least for his own sanity. If he had to watch these two fumble through their feeling for much longer he was going to lose it. “It’s all a smoke screen you know. The whole hero thing isn’t real. Alfred is really incredibly insecure. He is afraid.” He didn’t have to say more England should know what he meant. 

England sighed. He refused to look at the astute if often over looked Canadian. It wasn’t as if Arthur didn’t know that Alfred was insecure after all besides Canada he probably knew Alfred better than anyone, but the American so clearly wanted someone to save. Arthur would do a lot of things for America but he refused to become some damsel in distress just so America could save him and feel superior. They no longer had the same dynamic where England was the one in charge, but that didn’t mean he needed protecting he did perfectly fine on his own. He sighed knowing that he needed to answer the Canadian in some way. “I just don’t think he is ready for what I’m looking for. Maybe I’m the one who’s not ready . . .” He shook his head. “In truth the timing has always been off. I had a small window of opportunity and I think it is long past time. There is a reason he calls me an old man after all he wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t what he actually thought.” England sighed. “It’s too bad I don’t need a hero.” He laughed a little but it was a slightly bitter regretful sound that didn’t make him sound in the least bit happy or amused.

Mathew sighed. If it were England and America it would be one thing as countries their relationship would be slightly taboo but not of any real consequence. Countries got together and broke up all the time, but this wasn’t England and America it was Arthur and Alfred. This went much deeper. “You may not need a hero, but he does.” Canada said not meeting the older nations eyes. “He may not say it, but it means a lot to him that you came Arthur. He would never admit it but he misses you, especially during this time of year. Please save him from himself someone has to.” Canada grabbed England around the waist and gave him a firm squeeze of affection, as if that would solidify his point, before he disappeared through the glass door back into the massive party. 

Canada had given Arthur a lot to think about. He spent so much time obsessing about his own feeling as a country and as a person he had never really stopped to look at it from Alfred’s point of view. He didn’t even know how to look at it from that side. He had always been in charge he had never really been under anyone else’s control. Would he do the same things that America had done? Would he be mature enough to forgive the country that oppressed him? Alfred must HATE him. How ever it didn’t seem like he did. As England tried to consider how Alfred must have felt he had a revelation. Alfred’s hero complex finally made sense. It wasn’t about saving other people or being a hero it was about proving he was strong. Who was he trying so hard to impress? Surely it wasn’t him, and yet Arthur had always been the first to tell him he would fail. Was it even a slight possibility that his hero complex was all about trying to convince Arthur he was strong? Did he really think that Arthur cared about that? No of course not, but England did care about that sort of thing. The more his thoughts chased each other round and round in his head the harder and harder it got to separate Arthur’s feeling from England’s. It all boiled down to the exact same conclusion he loves Alfred. He was hopelessly in love with both Alfred and America consequences be damned. 

~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, Arthur’s revelation that he was in love with Alfred in every shape form and incarnation did nothing more than scare him to immobility. He was frozen. This wasn’t indecision. He had wrestled with indecision for years this was down right fear. He hated to admit it but this was the entire crux of his problem. Deep down he had always known that he loved Alfred, but that just meant that a rejection from Alfred would hurt more than anything else possibly could. Why did it have to be Alfred? The one person he was sure would never return those kinds of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any one was waiting on this I'm sorry I totally lost track of the days and forgot that yesterday was Monday. I hope you like this installment one more to go. As always please let me know of any mistakes or just general feedback.  
> Winter_storm


	4. Yankee Doodle Sweet Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has figured out how he feels; now what is he going to do about it?

England let the hours slip past. He passed the time trying to remember all the lines to his favorite Doctor Who episodes, reciting Shakespeare in his head, or attempting to identify all the constellations in the night sky. It was easier out here. There were too many people around inside. He wasn’t good at crowds and even worse at expressing his feelings. The idea of putting the two together was more than enough to make Arthur think twice. The fact that he was having trouble even considering telling Alfred at all made the idea of doing it in front of so many people almost laughable. Still he should at least make sure to tell Alfred happy birthday he had sort of neglected doing so earlier. Not to mention he had completely forgotten to clear up that little misunderstanding about what France had been doing in his room the previous night. He could stay out here for a bit longer though after all it wasn’t like the boy was going to leave it was his house. Unfortunately, due to America’s offer to make this party a sleep over no one else would be leaving either. 

England quickly lost track of the time. He stayed out on the terrace deep in thought for much longer than he intended completely ignoring the party and its progression only feet away separated by the sliding glass door. It shouldn’t have really been surprising that time got away from him after all gathering courage was a time consuming effort. Maybe he should just do as he originally intended and simply explain that his relationship with France was strictly platonic if that and take his leave, but something told the weary nation that if he let this opportunity slip away he would not get another one any time soon.

~~~~~~~

It had taken far too long in America’s opinion but he was finally given enough space to breath. He felt a slight twinge and worried he looked for England. He didn’t see the older nation anywhere. Oh well he probably left, but at least he had showed up that alone was more than Alfred had hoped for. The twinge still worried him though. England could take care of himself Alfred knew that after all England took every opportunity to remind him of that fact. However, if England was in some kind of pain or trouble Alfred wanted to be there. He wanted to help no matter what the older nation said. 

Soon the often boisterous American was back in high spirits however. Surely he would be able to tell if something bad had happened to England. There was still so much celebrating to do after all. There was cake and games, and of course fireworks. They had to sing happy birthday and songs like God Bless America and America the Beautiful. It was a bit of an ego boost to hear a big group of people singing songs about him, but America liked the boost. He also enjoyed singing and generally this late with so many of the countries intoxicated to one degree or another the songs became lewd and entertaining very quickly which made the singing much more fun for everyone. 

There was one thing that Alfred didn’t expect on his birthday though. Generally, a birthday came with presents, but in the case of countries presents were usually a bit more complicated and generally sent from their bosses to commemorate the occasion. The presents went to America not Alfred. The boy never minded since he didn’t really need anything. He had all he needed after all. Anything he wanted he usually bought for himself anyway; he never seemed to be in need of money. Games he could usually get from Japan, movies he would stream on his large flat screen TV, and comics didn’t cost much in the first place. He did have an impressive action figure collection that would make a heavy dent in the finances of most humans, but since his wealth was highly dependent on his people and several of the richest people in the world lived in America he had more money than he knew what to do with most of the time. 

Due to all of this Alfred was very surprised to find a festively wrapped box sitting on the small table near his front door. He hadn’t even been to the front room since before the party even started so he had no way of knowing who the gift was from. He usually got something a little extra from France and Canada but that was family and they had both already given America his personal gifts. It was a moderately sized box, but it had an odd weight to it. It was unbalanced as if it contained several small items inside. He could deduce that is wasn’t a book, a movie, or a game, so that left very few things he would actually want. He shrugged it was probably just Feliciano trying to be festive that was the sort of thing the easily excitable Italian liked to do. Still something told him it wasn’t from the Italian. Feliciano’s idea of being festive was more along the lines of handing Alfred a box of pasta with a bow tied around it and yelling Happy Birthday. He had done that before actually. Mildly curious he lifted the box it was actually lighter than he originally thought, but his idea of weight was always a little skewed after all it wasn’t normal to swing around a fully grown buffalo as a toddler. He looked around to see if he was wanted. He sighed seeing that it was almost time for cake. He quickly moved the box from the front room to his bedroom. His gift would have to wait for now.

Alfred was certain it had been nothing less than divine intervention that prevented his house from burning down. Well divine intervention and the fact that Canada had talked Italy out of putting all 200 plus candles on his birthday cake. He didn’t even want to think about where the brunette found so many birthday candles but he had been rather hard to talk out of his intention of covering every available surface of the cake in the candles. Canada had a stroke of brilliance by explain that covering the cake in candles would upset the delicate ratio of cake to frosting successfully deterring Feliciano from his intent. The smaller of the Italy brothers was not about to do anything that would tamper with the flavor of the cake. There were only a few things the childlike country took seriously and food was one of them. 

Alfred was quickly whipped up into the thick of the celebration again. Beckoned to blow out a modest number of candles placed carefully on a cake crafted by one of France’s citizens. He wasn’t exactly sure who it was, but since Mattie had been in charge of the cake he had of course called in a favor to get the best cake he could. Alfred would have been perfectly happy with a home made funfetti cake, but of course that wouldn’t have been enough cake for everyone anyway so a cake had to be ordered just to make sure everyone could have a piece. It was truly a work of art though. The confection consisted of three layers each a different flavor. The top layer of the cake had sugar starts shooting out of it that tumbled down onto the deep blue color of the layer itself. The middle layer had perfectly even stripes all the way around it. The bottom was his favorite though with tiny paintings of famous American landmarks like the Statue of Liberty, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the Grand Canyon. He loved the cake and insisted on getting a 360-degree view on camera before anyone was allowed to cut into it. He was so focused on the cake he completely forgot about the gift sitting on his bed waiting for him.

It was about an hour before he remembered the package. He had gone to use the bathroom connected to his bedroom. On his way back to join the assembled countries for the firework show that would start soon the festive paper caught his attention reminding him that he had a present to open. He peeked out the door. Everyone seemed perfectly happy as they were. He closed his bedroom door and set his concentration on the present sitting on his bed. He examined the paper. It was red, white and blue but not really in the starts and stripes motif he was so fond of. The colors were a nice touch all the same though. He was a bit disappointed when he realized despite all of his looking there was no indication of who the box had come from. Oh well maybe the present would be enough, or maybe there was a card on the inside. 

He took his time peeling away the paper. He was usually the type to just rip into a present paying no mind to the paper, but it seemed wrapped with such care that ruining the hard work of the giver seemed like a shame. When he finally was able to pull away the paper in one clean sheet a note fell free and a plethora of assorted objects scattered out of the box he had revealed. Most of them were small decorative kinds of objects things that he wasn’t a huge fan of but found handy to place around on book shelves or on the window sill just to make his house seem more lived in. It was a very strange collection of items and none of them seemed the least bit connected. He was still puzzling over who the giver could be. He sighed deciding to turn his attention to the letter maybe that would give him a clue. He ripped open the envelop fingers trembling slightly he knew what he wanted the letter to say, who he wanted the gift to be from, but he also thought that wasn’t very likely. Still he couldn’t help the frantic beating of his heart as he read the note. 

My Dearest Alfred,  
My position as a country and the mixed emotions I have because of it prevent me from being able to say this to you in person but I’m so proud of you and wish you the happiest of birthdays. You deserve so much more credit than I have ever given you for everything you’ve done. Never doubt how amazingly special you are even if I never say it. You can be an idiot at times and have always been headstrong, but you have such a big heart and I hope that somewhere under all that bravado and boasting you know that you can lean on me if you ever have need because even if I don’t have a place in your heart you will always have a place in mine. 

The letter wasn’t signed, but it didn’t have to be. He would have known that handwriting anywhere. It was the same delicate careful cursive that made his heart jump into his throat. It was England he remembered letters that would come to him from across the sea in that same flowing handwriting. He had always looked forward to those letters; he still did. He teased England about joining the digital age and writing e-mails, but he couldn’t deny that nothing quite felt like getting a hand written letter from the person you are thinking about. Besides e-mails were always about work when it was something more personal England always wrote letters. Alfred kept every letter England ever wrote him. He would read them when he felt lonely; pour over them looking for some hidden meaning. He was glad that for once he didn’t have to look for any kind of meaning in a letter from England. This letter was probably the most direct sign he had ever gotten from England and yet it confused him more than any other letter ever had. 

He quickly turned his attention back to the assorted things that had been contained in the box. They meant more just because they were from England. He started to go through them piece by piece. There were a few comic books one’s he had often pointed out to England, but never bought for himself. He set them aside to read later. There was a small action figure? or no it wasn’t an action figure it was more like a model and it wasn’t like anything he had ever seen not in the stores at least. It was carved from wood he could feel the grain. It was hand made and it wasn’t of any kind of super hero or anime character it was a model of him sandy blonde hair with one unruly cow lick, sky blue eyes that almost twinkled, even straight white teeth peeked out of the small mouth mimicking his trade mark smile. He ran his hands over the small figure. It was exquisite in every detail. He thought about the little wooden soldiers England gave him as a child. The country’s skill had obviously improved since then. Either that or he had spent more time than Alfred really wanted to consider making sure every aspect was perfect. He took a moment to wonder if he could talk the older nation into making a little tiny Arthur to match, but quickly moved on after placing the figure on his night stand. There were a few little Pokémon key chains of all his favorite characters. He had no idea England paid enough attention to actually remember them all. The last item was a coffee mug. It looked pretty ordinary compared with everything else really. It was a nice mug and it had his flag on it but it didn’t seem terribly special. He turned it around until he found again a careful cursive printed on the ceramic. He wasn’t sure if England had written it himself or if he had gotten someone else to do it. It looked like his handwriting though. He read it in a whisper “You are my hero.” His mouth fell open. The mug slipped from his fingers hitting the floor. He was never so happy that his floors were carpeted. Thanks to the sturdy design of the mug and his cushioned floors it wasn’t harmed, but that was the last thing on Alfred’s mind. The only thought that kept running through his head was ‘I have to find him!’ 

Alfred wasn’t sure what to do though. England had left right? Even if he had stayed the minute Alfred left his room he would be roped into more celebrating and never find England among everyone else. He couldn’t just let this pass though. He crept out of his room and closed the door so as not to attract any unwanted attention. He closed his eyes and focused on the pull he always felt around England. He was still here Alfred could feel him. He opened his eyes and look around. It only took a minute to locate the island nation. There he was; he was outside on the terrace. Had he been there all along? What was so interesting about the view from out there? Alfred waited a few minutes as the rest of his guests went out on the front porch to get a good view of the fireworks. They would be starting soon. Good this was his chance no one around just him and England . . . no that wasn’t what he wanted . . . Arthur that was what he wanted. He took a deep breath and went to join Arthur on the terrace.

He saw the older nation’s shoulders stiffen a little at his approach. Maybe it was the same for Arthur; maybe he could feel when Alfred was close by. Either that or he was expecting to be ambushed by Francis. The thought made him freeze. He had almost forgotten about that. Arthur was here with Francis or at any rate he had been with Francis last night. Well he should still say thank you at least. He carefully leant his weight on the railing. He was pretty sure that Arthur knew he was there but just in case he didn’t want to startle the older nation. He cleared his throat it was dry and scratchy a clear sign that he was nervous. Of course England would have known anyway even if his voice hadn’t given him away. He saw those green eyes glaring at him from under a fringe of hair and long golden lashes. He always got so flustered when England looked at him like that, but he had come out here for a reason. He came out here for a number of reasons, but Arthur was looking at him like he was the worst person alive and it hurt. He couldn’t take it with those green eyes glaring at him. He instead turned away so he didn’t have to look at Arthur. He cleared his throat again. “I um I got your present.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. He should have said something like, of course you have a place in my heart, or I love you, or all I ever wanted was to be your hero, but he didn’t.

England shrugged turning back to look out over the expansive backyard and the city in the distance. He loved this house. It was the sort of house he had back in England; his country house; he had always preferred that to his town house in London. After a few deep breaths he felt ready to talk. He didn’t feel up for any kind of mind blowingly amazing love confessions, but a simple conversation he could surely handle. “That’s good. My boss was a bit lax about sending it on time this year so I wasn’t sure it would arrive you know over seas shipping and all.” He took a sip of his drink. It was water. He had given up on the idea of consuming any more alcohol a long time ago. Despite everyone’s belief he was well aware of his low alcohol tolerance and the last thing he needed tonight was to lose his senses to liquor. His senses were already frayed at the prospect of all the things he should be saying and doing. He couldn’t bring himself to do any of them though. He was still a coward and he knew that the moment he felt the tug on his heart that meant Alfred was near. Knowing how clearly he felt about the boy coming to that conclusion only made it hurt more. How could he ever risk their carefully constructed friendship for something as foolish as a hopeless desire for a romantic connection. Still Canada’s words rang in his ears. ‘You may not need a hero, but he does.’ A hero wouldn’t be afraid, but Arthur was no hero. He glanced at America from under his lashes. He could be a hero though; for him he could be a hero; for him he could do anything. 

Arthur had just decided he would do it; he would be a hero and reach out for the boy, when he was beaten to the punch. Alfred opened his mouth to speak. He took a momentary pause biting his bottom lip when he saw those green eyes trained on him again. “I meant your gift Arthur not England’s gift. It . . . it meant a lot to me . . . means a lot to me. All of it.” 

Arthur felt his cheeks heat up. He wished he didn’t blush so easily. He could only hope that the low light outside hid his flaming cheeks from the younger nation. He cleared his throat. “Well I couldn’t very well show up empty handed You don’t have to pretend thought if there is anything you don’t like I can return it and get you something else maybe some kind of new video game.” He said airily. The assortment of gifts came form England’s inability to choose what the boy would actually want. The figure he had made years ago and always intended to give to America but for some reason whenever he got the chance he found he didn’t want to part with it. The comics, key chains and mug had been all been purchased that day while traversing with France, but the monogram he had done himself when Francis insisted on getting his hair done at the saloon. A bit of paint a calligraphy brush and a touch of magic made quick work of adding the annotation he wanted. It all seemed too much and not enough at the same time. The letter had taken him far longer than anything else though. He had spent all of his waking hours on it since Alfred’s impromptu arrival at his hotel room the previous night. It was really only the most recent draft of a letter had written hundreds of times over more years than he wanted to count. It had been time though. He couldn’t just keep rewriting the same letter and never actual give it to the recipient that would make the whole exercise an act of futility anyway. 

Arthur didn’t really want to talk about his gift, but he did have the actual talk to Alfred and this was by far a better choice than trying to do it when all the other nations were around. “America . . .” No he needed to talk the him as his friend, and maybe more this was not a time to use his country name. He took a deep breath and started again. “Alfred, you need to know that last night . . .” God this was harder than he had thought it would be. His cheeks turned slightly pink despite the fact that he hadn’t done anything to be embarrassed about, beside drink entirely too much wine that is. “What I mean is that Francis and me aren’t anything. I mean we are of course Allies and well I’m not sure you could call us friends, but what is that term your people use now? Oh yes frienemies I suppose that best describes the relationship Francis and I have with each other, but the point is that there is no sort of romantic, or physical relationship between us we were just swapping stories of old times and I over indulged is all. He was actually being terribly helpful by making sure I didn’t do anything more idiotic than usual.” It was not quite the most eloquent of speeches he could have made, but it did at least get the point across. 

He was all together surprised when he felt strong arms wrap around his waist in an entirely too tight bear hug and literally lifting him about a foot off the ground with and even tighter squeeze. All he could do was swat at the arms and squeak in protestation. After the initial shook he was able to insist that Alfred put him back on the ground and release him immediately. Alfred did so with a bit of a chuckle. “Sorry Artie I’m just so glad to hear that you and Francy pants are just, well not what I thought you were is all.” He laughed a bit. So it had all been a misunderstanding. It made sense actually. It was as if someone had walking in on Canada helping him after he over indulged. Why hadn’t he thought of that last night? Well because all rational thought fled him when Arthur was involved. He looked over at the aforementioned man. He was looking out at the city again as if searching for something. His face was momentarily illuminated by a firework in the distance. It cast his face into sharp contrast. Alfred couldn’t help it he leant down and kissed Arthur’s temple. It was just a soft quick brush of lips nothing more than a small sign of affection or it could be interpreted as that if Arthur wanted that to be all it was. 

He kissed him? Alfred actually kissed him. Of course it didn’t really count since it was more in friendship and it was on the forehead. It had happened before of course that was more Arthur kissing his forehead and it was a very long time ago. He couldn’t help the blush that crept up his cheeks, but when he chanced a glance at Alfred he was looking out across the city again. This was it. He had to. He could do it right after all if it all went to hell at least the uncertainty would finally end. He turned away from the cityscapes so he was facing the boy completely. He cleared his throat to get the boys attention. Alfred turned to him one blonde eyebrow slightly cocked as if to say what. He didn’t have to wonder for long though. Arthur after one final steadying breath slowly pulled Alfred’s face down and went up slightly on his toes to compensate for the height difference before darting in quickly before he could think better of it. He covered Alfred’s lips with his own. Their first real kiss the first one that counted in his mind. It wasn’t perfect it would take practice for them to get better to learn what the other liked, but the passion and longing was clearly apparent in the action. It wasn’t a soft brush of lips it was a fervent pressing, a request for acceptance. He was holding his breath hoping against hope that Alfred would in fact accept the kiss, all it implied, and him. 

After what felt like an eternity Arthur pulled back looking into slightly startled blue eyes. He sighed softly with a slightly sad smile. He laughed ruefully. “Well at least now I know.” He said. He looked at his glass water would definitely not be enough to get over this. Besides he had done what he intended to do now he was perfectly capably of getting entirely sloshed if he wanted to and he very much wanted to at the moment. He was just on his way to find something much stronger when he felt a large hand stop him. He looked at Alfred. “Let go of me you git.” He said trying to swat the hand away. He was completely unsuccessful but this time it was his turn to be astonished as Alfred pulled his closed and lifted him off the ground to meet his lips in their second kiss. 

It took a moment to recover, but soon Arthur was kissing Alfred back. This was it, that magical moment people talked about in fairy tales. This was the type of kiss the would wake a princess form eternal sleep or turn a frog into a prince. It was still slightly fumbled, but the feeling were there and really they always had been. Alfred pulled back from the kiss to catch his breath. He held onto Arthur afraid that he would try to leave again. “Arthur I . . . I mean . . . I want . . . we . . .” He couldn’t seem to string more than two words together at a time. 

Arthur just shook his head. “Shut up and kiss me again idiot.” Arthur said pulling them together in the best kiss yet. Their third kiss. He took only a moment to wonder if it would always get better. It didn’t matter now that it had happened the rest could be figured out in time. It was several minutes of getting comfortable and fevered kisses later before the pair again broke apart. They were pressed together watching fireworks light up the sky in the distance just enjoying their new closeness. It had been several moments since either of them had actually spoken. Arthur looked up at the happy grin on Alfred face and laughed. He went up on tiptoes and lightly kissed Alfred’s cheek. “Happy birthday Alfred my love.” He murmured softly as he pulled back and snuggled against the larger nation in the glow of the fireworks. 

“It is now Arthur it is now.” Alfred replied pulling Arthur tighter against him as they watched the rest of the fireworks disappear over the city.

~~~~~~~

After far more pestering and pleading than he was prepared for England agreed to sleep at America’s house that night with the rest of the nations. Alfred had of course wanted him to stay up ad continue to celebrate with them all but finally conceded to letting England get some much needed rest since he did in fact have an early flight to catch. He woke long before any of the other countries as far as he could tell at least. The house seemed quiet at least. He crept out of the room he had retired to hoping he could leave before any commotion. He looked into the kitchen for a moment. Surely he had time to indulge in a morning cup of tea before he left. 

He was sitting at the half wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the house when a bit off movement in his peripheral vision roused him from his thoughts. He felt a slight tug at his heart strings. It was Alfred. He would know it from the footfalls of his gait if the the tightening in his chest hadn’t given it away. He smiled softly as he turned towards the young American. They had shared their first real kiss the previous night and now in the harsh light of day all those old insecurities came flooding back hitting him like a tidal wave. Alfred must not have shared eh feeling though as he leant down and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He felt his blood rush to his face turning his normally pale complexion a bright scarlet. “Good morning sweetie.” Alfred said as he moved towards the coffee machine. 

Arthur was stunned into silence for a moment. He had secretly thought that all of last night had been some kind of liquor induced dream, but it seemed not. He was thrilled about that fact, but it was still a little mind boggling. As his mind finally caught up with the rest of the world he let his eyes drift to the boy in the kitchen over the rim of his tea cup. He smiled widely as he saw Alfred pour his morning coffee into a sturdy cup with his flag and the carefully written sentiment of ‘You are my hero.’ Alfred apparently had liked his gifts. He finished his tea and went t wrap his arms around the larger blonde. “I’ll see you soon luv.” He said having to raise up on his tiptoes to kiss the boy’s cheek sweetly.

Arthur was surprised when he tried to pull away and instead was tugged into a strong hug. “You aren’t going yet are you?” Alfred asked nuzzling his head into the shorter blonde’s hair. He seemed very intent on keeping Arthur now that he had gotten him. The glare that the older nation sent the young America made him stop his nuzzling. “I just thought that maybe you could stick around for a few days and we could you know keep . . . celebrating.” He said with one wheat blonde brow raised to emphasis what he meant by celebrating.

Arthur punched Alfred effectively releasing him from the tight embrace. “Idiot.” He said but it was full of affection making the insult into more of a pet name. “I have an early flight to catch, but I’ll see you soon luv besides, the next world meeting is just around the corner.” He teased as he went to grab his coat and leave the house. He heard an exasperated groan of “But that is more than a month away!” from the kitchen. He chuckled lightly as he left the house. There was no way he was going to make it a whole month before he saw Alfred again. He hailed a cab as he spared the house one last look. “Happy Birthday Alfred.” He said as he climbed into the cab. He had savored last night when they were just people, but now it was back to business where they were America and England again, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be both. England finally came to terms with the idea that he could be and was both Arthur and England, and that was how it was supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually had this waiting around to post for a long time and just never got around to it. It is a little disconnected at times because I never really had the time to just sit down and write on this chapter so I did it a few paragraphs at a time. Please let me know of any spelling or grammar mistakes so I can improve in the future.
> 
> I have been thinking about making this part of a series where we see how Arthur, and Alfred spend other holidays together or doing a sequel, omake, or remix of this where it is Arthur's birthday. I would love to hear from you all and get some feed back on if any, all or none, of those ideas are appealing.  
> Thank you as always.  
> Winter-Storm


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